


Love Hurts

by teddybeardoctorr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddybeardoctorr/pseuds/teddybeardoctorr
Summary: Scenes of Dean Winchester and his girlfriend living the hunter lifestyle together. Can they both be hunters, together, and happy?





	Love Hurts

_2008_

 

 

“Crap, that stings!”

“Hold still, you dick.”

I rolled my eyes, watching Dean grit his teeth and shut his eyes tight. For the bravest man I had ever known, he sure was a wuss.

“But I'm - ugh - your dick,” he said, grinning through pain.

“Shut up,” I replied. The end of his wound was near as I stitched it up. “It'll be over soon.”

Another bullet wound. Luckily, this wasn't a regular occurrence, but treating each other's injuries were.

Once his wound was completely stitched and covered up, I cut the extra lace. It fell right next to the shot glass on the bedside table, where the bullet soaked in scotch.

“Told you it would be over,” I said, patting his good shoulder lightly.

“You have hands of God,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss me. “Better, of course.”

I giggled and kissed him again. His warm lips trapped mine and tasted of sweat and tears from earlier. Dean tried covering up his pain all the time, but his body always gave him away.

Slowly, I laid him down on the bed until he settled into the mountain of pillows. I made sure to grab extras from the room across the hall of the motel. Hopefully there wasn't anything disgusting on those cases.

“You need to rest for a while,” I instructed, running my hand through his hair. There was dried blood in half of his strands, but I didn't care. He could worry about showering later, once he allowed himself some sleep. “We can shower, pack up, and go once you wake up.”

His eyes glazed over me lazily. I could tell he was tired, but his eyebrows still knitted together in concern. “What about you?”

“I'll salt and burn the bones in a bit.”

“That will take even longer.”

“I move fast.”

“You can't go alone.”

“And you can't go at all,” I bit back. “You need to rest. End of discussion.”

He grabbed my hand from his hair, bringing it close to his chest. The pad of his thumb rubbed slowly across my gathered fingers. “You promise to be careful?”

“Of course.”

“Can't have another wounded soldier on our hands.”

I snorted and interlaced our fingers. He squeezed my hand, our eyes never leaving each other.

“You're going to be fine,” I said.

“I know,” he replied shakily. I could tell talking was over exerting. “It's not the first bullet, but I promised we'd make it out okay.”

“And we will,” I quickly said, just a bit louder than before. “You know nothing ever goes according to plan.”

“I wish it would for once.”

I said nothing in return. I agreed but made sure to not show it.

Dean was always protective of me. I guessed from watching his father die for him and his brother die in his arms that it changed him. It would change anyone.

I knew because watching my own family die, one by one, changed me forever.

He felt it was his duty to protect me. But I'd been hunting for 10 years, almost 11 now. I always only had myself. I was used to defending and protecting my own.

But sometimes, having him was beautiful and all I ever needed.

Leaning down, I kissed his forehead and then his lips. I'd never get tired of his warm skin under my own. “I'll see you in the morning. I love you.”

He smiled lazily, eyes racing all over. Taking in each feature to dream about something other than pain. I'd seen that expression too many times.

“I love you, too,” he said quietly, shutting his eyes. “See you soon.”

 

***

 

Throwing the shovel in the trunk and slamming it closed, I breathed a sigh of relief. Dean was right about it taking longer to dig up the grave and burn the bones. He had more strength than me, but I wouldn't admit that to him.

It was a common theme to withhold the whole truth from each other.

We never meant to keep secrets, but it always ended up happening. You would think being together, it would be a number one rule to always be honest. But when you were a hunter, you were not like regular people.

Normalcy would never be real.

Getting into the impala and starting her up, I looked at the time on my watch. Close to 4am. I could probably get 3 hours of sleep, and then we would have to wake up and hit the road.

I rolled my eyes and pulled out of the cemetery. For once, I'd like to get a full 8 hours of a sleep, like a regular human being.

Feeling my phone vibrate in my jean pocket, I snickered as I reached for it and drove with one hand. Flipping it open, I said, “It's four in the morning.”

“Is Dean okay?”

“Sorry Bobby,” I said, sighing. “Yeah, he's okay. Should be resting.”

“Should be?”

“I went to the cemetery alone.”

“Oh,” he said. “That's good. How'd you manage him to listen?”

“Hydrocodone for the pain.”

Hearing Bobby laugh made me smile. He reminded me a lot of my grandfather, when he was alive. Being on the road all the time sure made me miss him.

“You're a blessing to that boy,” he said. “Bout’ time someone straightened him out.”

“Trust me,” I said. “He's still Dean.”

“Yeah, an idgit. Call me if you need me. And be safe.”

I smiled, closing my eyes for a few seconds in gratitude. “Thanks, Bobby. You too.”

Closing my phone and putting it back in my pocket, I already missed the conversation. It kept me more awake than I originally thought I was. My eyes were feeling droopy, but now, I was 3 minutes away from the motel. I could do it.

I took a year break of hunting, which is how I met Dean. I swore I would be done for good, but he reeled me back in. He was dangerous, hilarious, and beautiful, a combination that kept me curious of him. A year and a half later, and I still couldn't adjust my body to automatically agree with the lack of sleep.

But coming back to the motel and watching Dean rest peacefully made me grateful.

His chest rose quietly with each slow breath. One hand on his stomach and the other laid out next to him. I hadn't see him at this much peace in...well, ever.

Locking the door behind me, I quietly placed my bag on the table. I peeled my clothing off until I was just in my underwear and nightshirt, and crawled into bed on his good side. I knew he needed the whole bed, but I needed a place to recharge.

When I settled my head in the crook of his arm, I studied the side of his face. He didn't stir at all, and I was glad. Dean usually waited for me to fall asleep before he did. It was nice to see him vulnerable for a change.

He hadn't shaved in a few days. His crows feet were coming out more. His face finally was peaceful instead of harsh. My heart swelled, just knowing that he was right next to me and safe.

Feeling satisfied, I closed my eyes. These next few hours of sleep better feel like a lifetime.

 

***

 

“Anything else for y’all?”

“No thanks,” I said, smiling to the waitress.

“Actually, can I get extra bacon?”

With a wide grin, the waitress poked the tip of her pen on her pad. She winked at Dean and said, “You betcha.”

Once she walked away from our table, with an extra push in her hips, I let out a quiet giggle. “She totally wants you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and reached for my hand across the table. He winced, instinctively reaching with his injured side, but captured my hand and squeezed it. “I already have what I want.”

I smiled, saying, “You don't think you can get her number, do you?”

“You just want me to be unfaithful.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “It's just fun watching you squirm.”

“I hate you.”

Raising his hand to my lips, I kissed his bruised knuckles gently. “Touche.”

He grinned, taking a sip of his water with his freehand. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Look for a new case?”

“Well, I'm gonna be out of practice for a few days. Isn't there anything you want to see?”

He was right. He needed to rest his shoulder for a week, probably longer. But I knew Dean. I knew he would be itching to put himself to use as soon as one notch of pain let up.

Drinking a sip of orange juice and licking my lips, I thought about it. After releasing tension from my shoulders, I replied, “Honestly, I just want to watch a sunset and talk.”

Knitting his eyebrows, Dean laughed and asked, “What? We don't talk enough?”

“Exactly,” I said, grinning. “When's the last time we actually sat down, relaxed, and just...talked to each other?”

After mulling it over in his head, I could tell he agreed.

A month into knowing each other, we agreed to go on a hunt together. Dean was on a monster killing spree, and it was my first hunt in a year. After that, we realized we made a great team and started hunting together.

And while I enjoyed every second, as terrifying as things could get, we rarely had chances to sit down and simply enjoy each other's company. As a couple. Together.

It made keeping secrets easier, though.

But it would also be nice to not be his “partner” or “trusted colleague” once in a while. No researching or fighting together, protecting our backs. No coming back to a motel and treating each other's injuries.

It would be nice to simply exist with one another.

“I guess we never make the time,” I added, shrugging my shoulders.

Squeezing my hand again, he set his jaw and said, “Then that ends now.”

Not wanting him to take it the wrong way, I quickly said, “Dean-”

“No, no, you're right, Court,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “We never get the chance to hang around. We deserve that. You deserve that.”

Lacing our fingers, I looked down at our joined hands. Both paved with scars. Both always connecting together.

Silent, I smiled and looked up at his shining green eyes. He squeezed again before releasing me, our food placed in front of us.

“I know a place 8 hours out,” he said, already taking a stab at his bacon.

“Where?”

“I'll drive.”

“Dean, you are not driving.”

“Courtney, you need more than 3 hours of sleep.”

“You do that all the time.”

“And you don't.”

Rolling my eyes, I guess I couldn't be too mad. He was always taking care of me. Always making sure I had what I needed, and then he would take what was left. Always putting more effort into me than he did himself. Even when he was battered, wounded, weak, or ready to give up.

And truth be told, I still felt exhausted.

“I've been worse before and drove,” he assured, a piece of bacon falling out of his mouth. I snorted, but stopped when he shot me a look. “Just trust me. Now, eat your omelette before it becomes a chicken again.”

 

***

 

“Bingo, babe.”

I turned around, watching Dean crouch down by the side of the dusty bed, picking an item off the floor. Walking over, we examined the comb together. It had a few clumps of blonde hair woven between the pink bristles.

“Under the bed?” I asked.

He nodded, looking up at me. “So long, Sherry.”

I smirked, grabbing his hand and helping him up. His shoulder was feeling better, but I could tell he was still sore.

Just a few days later, the hunt looked after us. Bobby called Dean with a case he thought would be our kind of thing. A ghost had been combing heads of people to death, seeking justice from the people who allowed her to be murdered at home. Since she was cremated, we investigated her abandoned home.

He rubbed my arms up and down, noticing my slight shiver. “We'll be out soon.”

I nodded, my teeth chattering together. “Make it quick before I turn into an ice cube.”

Dean grabbed a trash can, the opening covered in cobwebs. He threw the comb in and I handed him the gasoline and salt. I could tell he enjoyed setting things on fire a bit too much.

“Isn't it weird that sometimes you can feel a ghosts pain?”

He turned his head, studying my expression. “You mean how they feel?”

I nodded. “Sometimes when I hear what happened to them, I understand why they hold all of that resentment.”

He shrugged his shoulders, handing me back the gas and salt. “Doesn't mean people deserve to die because of it.”

“I didn't say they did,” I said. “I'm saying...when my family died, I definitely held resentment for eight of those years.”

Dean stood there, pausing his hand from grabbing the matches in his jean pocket. Nodding, he said, “Wanting revenge really drives people insane. Even spirits.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, watching him throw the matches in the can.

The comb set ablaze, and we watched it until it was fully melted. The ghost didn't try to stop us, which was strange. We usually didn't burn items or remains without a fight, but I swallowed hard to push down the thought.

I was always thinking the worst.

Once we were sure the comb was safely melted, we made our way downstairs and back into the impala. We would usually dust ourselves off before hopping in, but it was snowing and freezing. I needed warmth. Now.

Heading down the road, Dean asked, “You okay?”

I looked over from the window. His face was hard, worried.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I'm fine.”

He snickered, looking out at the pavement ahead. “Right.”

I swallowed, feeling my throat constrict. I knew that was the wrong answer.

“This car ride will be a lot less awkward if you just tell me what's on your mind.”

He was right. Again.

Shifting in my seat, I let out a breath and said, “Eleven years ago, when my family was killed, my sister came back a year later.”

Bewildered, Dean looked over, but then it registered with him.

“Her spirit.”

I nodded.

His right hand reached over to my thigh, rubbing it lightly and giving a squeeze. I placed my hand over his, thankful for the encouragement.

“She was angry and thought I let them die,” I let out, feeling tears threaten to spill over. “And I had to burn what items I had left of my family members, except for pictures. I didn't want them coming back again.”

Dean pursed his lips. I could tell he felt sorry for me, but I knew he wouldn't throw a pity party. He respected me more than that.

“You can't reason with a soul that's broken beyond repair. But I can empathize, if they felt any way my sister felt.”

Our fingers ended up woven together again, allowing him to reassure me. “You can't help everyone find peace, Court.”

“I know. I just wish I could.”

“Then we would be out of a job.”

I laughed, looking over at his smile. He could really use a shave, but I loved this look.

“Your family would be proud of you,” Dean said. “I know they would.”

That's what I always tried to tell myself. But he doesn't even know the half of it.

 

***

 

“Are you serious? No pie?”

“Dean, you're 30. You need to watch your diet.”

“Diet? Are you calling me fat?”

“Oh naw, you're perfect just the way you are, idgit.”

I snorted with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Watching Dean and Bobby bicker like old men was my favorite past time.

“Well thanks, mom,” Dean said, ripping a bite out of his pork chop. “I love you, too.”

“Would you quit whinin’ and eat the damn dinner?” Bobby complaining, waving his fork.

Dean snickered and rolled his eyes. I placed my fork down after practically licking the plate clean. “Thanks, Bobby. This was so delicious.”

He smiled and nodded. “Of course, Courtney. Thought it was bout’ time you guys had a meal that wasn't saturated in fats.”

“What recipe of mashed potatoes was that?” I asked, placing a hand under my chin. “I can never get them to taste like it.”

Bobby explained the recipe, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Dean grinning. I moved my eyes to his for a quick second and saw him wink. Every time I caught him staring at me, I still felt my stomach turn in nerves. I felt like I'd burst in flames from his eyes never leaving me.

Once we were done with dinner, I offered to clean the dishes a few times, but Bobby declined. He saw the bags under my eyes and demanded I take a nap upstairs in the spare room. While I wasn't all that tired, I also wasn't going to pass up the chance for a free nap.

Dean agreed with him and encouraged me up the stairs with a smack of my butt. I turned around, my scowl forming into a grin. He definitely would get it tonight.

But then I heard my name at the top of the staircase.

“Bobby, we need to talk about Courtney.”

Freezing, I turned around. I shouldn't eavesdrop. This wasn't my conversation.

But again, all of us kept some secrets. I'd always been curious to know which ones.

“What about her?” Bobby said. There was a pause, and I could tell he lowered his voice, cause I couldn't hear the next few words.

“Damnit,” I whispered.

Walking down the steps quietly, I was thankful to be blessed with natural hunters feet. You learned to walk like a mouse so no one could hear. Even if monsters could sense you, some would be thrown off with silence.

I was at the bottom of the staircase and saw them in the kitchen, their backs to me. The kitchen and dining room connected, so I walked over and leaned against the dining room wall. They couldn't see me, so this was perfect.

Well, until I would get caught.

Shaking my head, I made sure my ears were clear to listen.

“What are you trying to say, Dean?”

“Bobby, I want to marry Courtney.”

It took everything I had to not gasp in shock.

Covering my mouth tightly with my hand to conceal my breathing, I searched all over the room with my eyes. I needed to focus.

Marry?

I heard Bobby take a few steps forward, slowly and measured.

“Are you crazy, boy? You selfish bastard.”

“Bobby, what the-”

“You can't marry her, Dean!”

“Why not?” he practically yelled, abandoning loud whispers. “I thought you'd be happy!”

“Courtney already has a target on her back,” Bobby said, lowering his voice. “If you marry her, they will always use it against you.”

“They always did before, with everyone else. That won't change.”

“And look at where we are now.”

There was a pause, and I could just picture Dean setting his jaw. He was probably pursing his lips, willing not to let anything disrespectful slip out.

“Dean, she's a wonderful woman,” Bobby said apologetically. “But if you married her and ever lost her, it will ruin you for life. Trust me, boy.”

“I don't care,” Dean replied, restless. “The only family I have left is you. I’ve lost everyone.”

“You wanna lose another one?”

I could sense Dean raising his arms in confusion. His shoulders were probably unrelenting with tension. “If I lose her, I lose her. But damnit, Bobby. Courtney is one of the only women in my life I have ever loved. And I want to marry her.”

“I know, boy. I know.”

There was no movement, no words. Just silence.

I took this time to make my way back to the stairs, climbing up quietly. How was I supposed to take a nap now?

Dean was the only man I ever loved romantically. He was my family, Bobby right next to him. I loved him so deeply it was terrifying. But I knew what loss felt like. I knew what uncertainty could do to a person.

Which is why if Dean ever followed through with proposing, I unfortunately knew what my answer would be.

 

 


End file.
